The Ogden standard-examiner. [volume], January 02, 1921, Image 7

About The Ogden standard-examiner. [volume] (Ogden, Utah) 1920-current

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- A. .arc m0ftd2-z:. :rcc.:2Wricdn life I
! Conf fitted rom Prrceding Pagt. E;
l . L. IB
j You may se no doing worso P ' V
talesman" jj .jdAkMBWjflEB " C
patiently, "when we were children. yjf&m bWBEWa 2 "Don't ever turn against me, sweetheart, he murmured, " and I
n But we're rorn up now and wo jf wStSSi eF "V perhaps I'll do something yet. Without you, '
We know that we can't be big. he- A 1 jwKBBp ijS Kftil - i
the majority jv j 4UM3tKU jftBp X mmBeSW f-
q f: .- cryf hini; v. r r - . pu'll. rola- jBO- ljnfe P
u I ,. f '
J
?n
tli
ly 1 -
. of help unless we happen to he
geniuses. We know we are medi
i orritles and posh! how we do
or
dread it! That is the kind of thing
od ,
W8 know
"You're all wrong. Anthony," re
torted Adela. "I understand what
you mean, but I tell you you're
wrong I hate to say It, but It's so.
Thlnv ure there for everybody
work, I mean, career? Put you've
got to put out your hand and take
' thorn they won't drop Into your
ve palm."
0 "I know," ho Interrupted, "you
or think I'm a lazy dog"
"No." she protested with vehc
ief mencv "hut I'll tell you what I do
' think, Anthony, dear You havon't
113 found yourself, yet tbat'B what I
think You haven't found your ccn
tre Inside you. Your mind keeps
A shifting from one thing to anotlv r
Q-v" that's not the way to do anythin?
' well, is it? It may seem silly to
ij'i you," she ran on, "but it comes to
i d me sometimes that our whole idea
of work is wrong. We want all
u." work to give us something to give
' k- ub a creat deal. But, dearest we've
got to he the ones that give It's
)s9 our way of doing the best we can
ng for the whole human race. The
n, artist gives beauty, the day laborer
1 order, cleanllnoss, the mill-hand
,u things to wear to cat; the doctor,
for healing. Tim money or living that
on comes to us la an incident The
important thing is for tho worker
,3 to give his best Then, don't you
u- see, dear, that any work Is all
aie right" she caught her breath
m with her own vehemence, a warm
be flush overspread her neck and face
ce to her shining hair. Then she
,n paused suddenly with a little laugh
;19 at her own expense. "I suppose,"
: she added, "you think I'm daft to
r3 talk to J "U like that."
t0 But Anthony did not laugh. Her
1Cr words had sunk dcop Al! his past
o J few year with their waste and
folly loomed up and oppressed him
:1a. llk6 a heavy woight.
n(j "No, Barling," he answered finally.
"1 don't think you're daft I think
e(j( you are inspired. I know I've got
,ie to rel.-e my whole life and begin
all over again." In his eyes was
g,j the old pain of the days when she
t i kept forever feeling the barrier be
tween them and her heart was
ol,l blabbed by it.
"But. Anthony, dear," she began,
rd "I didn't mean"
an( "This Winter I have to right it
t0 out," he put In. "I've got to look
at life differently size it up dilfer
.es ently. You're younger than I am,
ive Addle but you certainly seem to
have a better hold of life than I've
got. I've drifted too much wasted
but It's no use going into that.
I'm paying for It now all right"
. -
and the anguish was still in his
c-yes.
"Well, my dear, you can do any
thing," she cried in a burst of en
thusiasm. "But you've got to flame
up to it with all the might and fire
in you!"
"If only you stick to me, Addie." -
He was smiling faintly. No ono j
was near. Only some birds were I
caroling overhead and the brook 9
was rippling beneath them He
drew her to him suddenly. "Don't 9
ft'
ever turn against me, sweetheart,
he murmured with his lips on hers, &
"and perhaps I'll do something yet. B
Without you life wouldn't be worth I
living, Oh. don't turu against me!" $
he repeated.
"Turn against you." she sighed $
happily, "what utter rubbish. Look !
a your going to Plattsburg i he
hardest kind of hard work just in
do something fine! I call that big "
"Yes, I'm glad I did that." he said. T
"There as you say I had a per
fectly clear sense of doing some y
service though it looks useless j'1
enough now."
And Anthony at that Instant sud
denly experienced ono of those
Daehea of completeness, of whole
heartedness. an expansion of con
sciousness that comes to us all at I
times in moments of happiness. He I
was free of his harassing past and
of tho carking future. He was free
of cares, of worries, of the binding
Conditions of existence. His soul
was stretched inimitably, filled with
all-embracing sunlight, extending to
the farthest depths of the universe.
Adela was with him, a part of him.
He was at one with all created and
uncreated beings . . . complete.
He was permeated by a sense of
serenity and joy Was this a mo
ment or was it eternity ? He awoke
as from a dream. If only this would
last forever, he found himself
wishing ... It was long be
fore he recaptured another such
moment, but that such moments
were possible he was awore from
that day on.
Old man Judd In the customers'
room of Liggett & Co that Autumn
had many opportunities of jesting
at Anthony's expense.
"Remember what 1 said, son," he
remarked one somber morning,
when Anthony see-med unusually
preoccupied; "with a young man
It's either money or a woman."
"Which do you think It is this
time?' Anthony answered half
absent ly.
"Moth," said the old man; "that's
what I would say from looking at
you '"'
"At that rate," retorted Anthony,
"you, Mr. Judd. so faithful in your
chair every morning, must have tho
Treasury and a harem on your
mind "
"No," laughed old Judd, twisting
his cigar with his stained lips, "no,
slrree1, not in my case. Dead dogs
don't what-you-may-callit. With
me it's dlffc nt; I've got to pass
the time. No romance about me "
"Weil, maybe you're lucky," an
swered Anthony. "But you're right
to an extent I've got to think of
, getting married some day."
"Sure you do." Judd masticated
the dead weejd. "And wait til you
see the present I send you Then
you do. But. son, don't try to do
it by speculation Easy comt s,
shoots the chutes when it goes." '
The truth is, Anthony was specu
lating. The fortunes made in Bethlehem
steel and the munitions stocks were
still the vivid legend of the Street.
Men who with a few thousands,
with a few hundreds almost, had
made themselves Independent for
life, were still discussed and point
ed out by name. In his own lodg-
(O) 1920. International 1
Ing9, on the floor below him, Au
thor y knew an elderly c:: professor,
McO 11 tgle by name, all whose joy
lay h Mi Poiynr-sian languages, who
hud owned a small block of shares
in a powder company and had eked
out a precarious existence by re
viewing books for newspapers.
Tliis professor McGonigle now wore
spat.', and lunched at Sherry's. He
had ahandoned reviewing, taken a
pleasant apartment, and only toyed
elegantly with the languages of the
Caroline group and the Solomon
Islands. Tho more obvious New
Zealand, Samoan and Tasmanian
tongues, a dozen or so in all, he had
abandoned at one swoop as now be
neath him. His beard was trimmed
to a distinguished Vandyke point
and a handkerchief adorned his
breast pocket.
"How did you do it?" Anthony
asked him ono day when he saw
him on the steps of Sherry's In
Forty-fourth street.
"A small block of Dupont, my
boy," was tho response. "Oo thou
and do likewise "
In vain he recalled his father's
old saying: "Son, if you want to
bo rich and also innocent you've
got to strike oil on your own prop
erty by accident while drilling for
water." Speculation was about tho
last thing that tho older West
would have countenanced.
But to people breathing tho at
mosphore of the Street there was
something overwhelming, orgiastic
in the wave of speculation that
swept oyer them in ninetcen-flftoen,
and the tidal force of it was still
felt in ninetcen-sixteen. Anthony
had dabbled in it with vurylug small
failures and successes. Now. how
ever, he was permeated by tho
faith of an important object. He
collected all his available assets,
somo twelve hundred dollars, put
;t in the hands of a young broker
with whom he was acquainted and
experienced again the uneasiness
familiar to those who stake more
than their capital warrants.
Caution notoriously guides the
speculator at the outset. He buys
with what a grave and scrupulous
deliberation! ho buys small IqIs
at first twenty shares and a mod
est profit; thirty shares, and then,
perhaps, fifty. He is careful with
sustaining stop orders, so that his
.osses may bo small. He is suc
cessful perhaps aud his profits on
the books of tho broker show a per
ceptible balance. Then ho begins
ff ture Serrtc. Inc. Ort
to blame himself for a too sordid
caution. The paper profits seem
pitiably small compared with what
thev might have been. There
comes a day when he plunges and
buys a substantial block. A trans
action on tho right sldo of tho
ledger, and he feels buoyantly
afloat on tho strong tide of name
less possibilities. Mottoes of dar
ing spirits come to him unbidden.
"Success is the child of audacity,"
Disraeli has said, and another has
declared, "do l'audaoe, tonjouro de
l'audace." With Mr. Kipling he j
makes a heap of all hi? winnings
and plunges boldly, for the back
hair of flying fortune seems visibly
within his grasp. Again he plunges I
and an evil chance clips off the
shadowy paper gains as well as a I
quivering, bleeding portion of tho
origlnnl capital. Then tho game is
renewed afresh.
Something like that was An
thony's experience during tho Au
tumn and Winter of nineteen six- I
teen and early nineteen-seventeen. Vj
Rumors and tips flew like scattered I
snowflakes through the air and as A
swiftly melted into insubstantlallty.
It need hardly be said that he men- I
tioned no word of this to Adela. A
So lofty and laudfble was the pur- 3
poso of his speculation that bless-
ings from on high should have I
crowned it as a matter of course, y
But the goddess Chance is curi- 1
ously unmoral in her nature and
cares for matrimony no more and I
no less than she cares for vice or
crime. Twice that Winter An- -J
thony's statements showed substan- I
tial profits to his credit, and twico
he was back to his original capital, I
the second time at some four nun- J
dred dollars less than ie had start- ":
ed with.
It was a tenso and an uneasy Win-
tor. The deadlock on tho Western
Front remained largely unbroken, w
The arrogance of the German Gov- '
eminent was increasing until Anally
we broke off diplomatic relations
with It, America's innate love of
peace enabled us to put up with J
much. Western and Middle West-
em citizens mildly declared that in
any case it would be difficult for y
Germany to invado their country. H
But when wo received tho Insolent I
and pointed instruction how to D
mark our weekly ship to Europe,
so that it might not be sunk by
mistake, even tho inhabitants of
the prairies and Rocky Mountain
plateaus could no longer bear the
Britain B'ghta ncjerred.
effrontery of the most arrogant
government known to the modern
world. One morning in April we
woke up to learn that President
Wilson had declared a state of war
to exist, and for the first time in
moro than a hundred years we em
barked upon (be enterprise of a
European war and bodily tho na
tion was lifted into a how plane of
its existence. All was changed and
every individual's fortunes were
affected.
Tho solicitude with which Adela
had been watching Anthony since
her return, and notably since their
conversation in the park that Sun
day morning, cradually gave way
to a palpable anxiety. His succes
sion of contradictory moods at
tlme3 positively alarmed her. The
phases of speculative fever and
chill he was undergoing were so
wholly foreign to her experience
i hat she did not even dream of
them. And Antliony, for his part,
knowing well the cast of her mind,
as he thought, kept those matters
beneath an exaggerated mantle of
secrecy. Therein lay tha'. one flaw
she found in Anthony his sc-cro-tiveness.
Occasionally, in his ebullient
moods, when ho had registered a
handsome profit on the books of his
broker, he would talk exuberantly
' of their marriage next Summer, of
the kind of apartment they were
going to have, of the sort of fur
niture and decorations he had in
mind, of riding in the park beforo
breakfast, of the beautiful, alert life
they were going to lead together.
. . . Then, another day, Adela
- would refer to something he had
iid; but that perhaps fell upon a
limn when he had suffered loss and
defeat His exuberance would be
dead, his responses absent or per
functory and Adela's mortification
accordingly deep. Whatever his
efforts to disguise his mood, Adeila
never failed to read him aright.
His phases of depression kept
bringing back to her mind the old
barrier that had lain between them
so long, and she felt herself pro
foundly troubled.
Was there, perhaps had there
been another woman in his life?
I Judging by analogy, even in her
own pellucid life there were epi
sodes . . . nothing she would
be afraid to tell Anthony if need
there were, and yet she did not tell
him. She never told him, for In
stance, how assiduous had been the
wooing of Arthur Clark, now State
Agriculturist, before ever she came
to New York. Nor did she tell him
how last Summer, even, when she
was at home, Arthur had come to
her and ardently renewed his suit.
She and Anthony had agreed to say
nothing at home of their joint fu
ture plans; and that in turn had
made it all the hardor to dlscour-
n in i
age Arthur Clark. Was there somo-
thing even more complicated in
the life of Anthony? She had been t
living in the world and in New York '
long enough to feci awaro that
young men do not walk through
life as ascetic saints or angels, un-
touched by wayward fancies and j
gusts of passion.
Clarice she often thought of
speaking of these things to Clarice,
but always she hesitated and fore
bore. So much and so long had
Anthony been in her heart, virtually
since childhood, that she could not
bring herself to discuss him with
another, even when that other was
Clarice. Besides, Clarice was very I
cheerfully absorbed in an affair of I
her own. !
Douglas Nash, who had broken
from tho walls of his mother's tute
lage like some fugitive monk, had
suddenly attached himself to
Clarice with a sort of wild fidelity
He waited for her at the door of
tho League school, he accompanied
her on walks, on shopping trips, to
the skating rink, to the theatre.
"Douglas has absolutely lost his
heart to Clarice," Adela Informed
Anthony one day. "He seems mad
about her.
"If Dougsle should marry Clarice,"
laughed Anthony, "Mrs. Nash's
heart will be broken."
"If Dougsle marries Clarice," re
torted Adoia, "he'll be luckier than
Mrs Nash deserves."
"You think it is funny," observed
Anthony. "But you don't know
know how that little lady has set
her heart on the lad's marrying a
fortune." To which Adela, with
positive anger, replied:
"Then I have no sympathy with
her and it would serve her right"
With her brooding, maternal vigi
lance, Mrs. Nash had not failed to
perceive her son's new interest, and
had duly called on the two glrl3 in
their highly unfashionable studio
building. She declared them both
to be perfect dears and warmly j
pressed them to visit her. But her
busy little mind was working like j
a power-drill, and very early in
their acquaintance she formed her
estimates with the eye of a captain
of industry Adela was obviously
absorbed In Anthony and Anthony
in her. No sort of danger lurked
in that direction. As for Clarice
well, Bho knew her Dougsle. Doug
sle had too keen an eye for beauty,
too solidly based a tasto of luxury
to marry or want to marry a plain,
impecunious girl like Clarice. Their
friendship might be a very good
thing for Dougsie, an outlet and a
satisfaction for the gregarious in
stincts of youth until the goddess,
the right one, the golden girl with
the goodly Inheritance should ap
pear in her proper time.
(To Be Continued Next Sunday)
Ui'K KM ISMi t UlUc, Brown a Oo. j
M